


Intertwined

by sodagiraffe



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, Red String of Fate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 16:02:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10745028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodagiraffe/pseuds/sodagiraffe
Summary: Yura deals with the red string of fate.OrThe time I messed up while cross stitching and got emotional over Otayuri





	Intertwined

If there was one thing Yura had learned while watching his grandmother embroider when he was a child, and trying it unsuccessfully on his own, it was that when the thread was too long it always, inevitably, got messy. Even worse if you pulled. It was law.  
He should have guessed it sooner, then. That the thread that connected his pinky, his soul, with someone else's didn't work any different.  
There's a long distance from St. Petersburg to Almaty, several hundred kilometers. There's a ten block difference from his apartment to Otabek's flat during his short stance in Russia.  
So it's not weird, it shouldn't surprise him, nor hurt him, this much when the day Otabek's flight is set back to his hometown they have not been talking for a week.  
A whole week.  
Why is that? Yura thinks to himself during the taxi ride to the airport.  
An unsolved kiss they never talked about nor properly finished and the abysmal sensation that his string might be broken, that's right.  
There isn't as much as a hug before Otabek waves him goodbye and turns around after thanking him for the hospitality.  
Yura wants to cry.  
His grandmother's solution to messy thread was always cutting it out.  
But he doesn't want to do that with Otabek, not after all these years.  
He has knots inside him, he recognises. Messy, difficult waves of thread curled up in a bunch of doubt.  
How wrong was him?  
Things go slowly back to normal after Otabek is finally in land. They chat, they call, they skype.  
Yura takes a time to think and recover the neat state of his inner train of thought.  
Slowly, but surely, he is more certain everyday that his thread leads to Otabek, he can't be wrong, he feels it tugging at his right pinky, calling him.  
He hates himself for doing this, he hates Viktor for doing it before him because it looks like he's just copying him when in reality this is so much different.  
He's on a plane and it's life or death.  
But the thread seems to be untangling by itself now. He can't be wrong.  
So when he is standing outside an unknown door, knocking on it, he doesn't let his knees give up.  
"Yura."  
He takes in the undercut, the sharp edges of his jaws, the socked feet, the ugly shirt. He goes over himself, sleep deprived, a funny looking bun trying to keep his hair up. He's a mess, he knows. The red thread is tense, his pinky is purple.  
But when he crashes himself on Otabek's lips that's a minimal detail, he doesn't care. Because the thread just slipped swiftly over the last knot and settled itself quietly around them. And he knows he's not wrong, he never was.  
Otabek stitches his name all over Yura's face with happy kisses. Their chests sewn together, their limbs knitting a tight promise of never letting go again. They hold each other, they just hold, until the sun digs too hard on their faces and Otabek invites him in.


End file.
